


Wicked Games

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fourth Age, Romance, Writing - Good use of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2003-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:19:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3831855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after "Sunset Ride", Eomer hosts his wife's brother Amrothos, unaware of the true reason for the Prince's visit. The two end up stalking around difficult issues like honor, marriage, and plain old-fashioned lust...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wicked Games: Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

This story contains **explicit homosexual sex** \-- consider yourself warned. Contact the author with archival requests.

******

**Part One**

King Éomer of Rohan paused on the threshold of the Royal Stables, his breath quite suddenly hitching in his throat. The pleasant warmth of a summer morning wafted over him, and the smell of fresh hay and groomed horses filled his nose. It was a day that held the promise of a delightful ride, and yet he stood frozen in mid-step, like a moonstruck cow.

His wife, the Lady Lothiriel, stood beside a pile of hay, clad in riding leathers -- he seemed to recall asking her to join him this morning, though his mind was presently having trouble operating adequately. Dark-haired and fine-featured, his Dol Amrothian bride was a sight to behold. Her short time in Rohan had darkened her fair skin and toned her slender body. The King did not let a day go by without thanking the fates he had won such a beauty.

But she was not the focus of his attention. Before her, clasping her hands and throwing his head back in a hearty laugh, was a disconcertingly handsome young man that Éomer was certain he should know. Sandy-blond hair hung about the nape of a bronze-skinned neck in lazy waves. Intensely blue eyes, filled with mirth, fixed on Lothiriel's face. He was clad in rich blue and black leather; the intricate embroidery on his sleeve formed a swan in repose.

Éomer's memory started to return even as his wife turned and introduced their visitor. "Dear, I didn't even see you there. You remember my brother, Amrothos, right?"

A wedding day filled with an endless parade of names and faces, mixed with more alcohol than was prudent for him to have consumed and an earnest desire to be with his new bride flashed before the King's mind's eye. He nodded, somewhat absently, trying to recall if he had spoken more than three words to any of her brothers.

"Well met...again," Amrothos said with a grin. "It's all right if you can't remember me. You were a might distracted that day and I was rather busy keeping Elphir from drinking himself into a stupor. My brother, I think despaired at the sigh of the people laying claim to our sister."

Feeling released from some sort of guilt, Éomer grinned broadly, shaking the Prince's hand -- trying to not note the softness of his skin. A married man did not, after all, notice such things.

"How long will you be staying with us?" the King asked.

"Until I've worn you out."

"Excuse me?" Éomer asked, feeling chills race through him.

The Prince laughed. "Your hospitality, I mean. And your ale stores."

"My brother is legend for drinking dry the lords of this land," Lothiriel said with a most un-regal giggle.

"Only because you insist on spreading the rumor," Amrothos retorted.

Éomer struggled to assume control of the situation. "We were going to head out for a ride. You are welcome to join us."

"I thank you, but alas, I have been riding for a long time and my backside is most sore. You do understand that horses are a barbaric means of transport in comparison to sailing."

Éomer grinned. "But horses aren't dependent on the wind or the tides...or, for that matter, there being water present."

"Living away from the sea is also barbaric," Amrothos announced with mock disdain.

"Perhaps, but the plains have their own charms," Lothiriel said, nudging her brother in the ribs. "Why don't you go find yourself some breakfast and -- dare I say -- a bath."

Amrothos sniffed. "I think you're right on both counts. Your majesty, if you would grant me the boon of your hospitality?"

"Call me Éomer, and you may, of course, stay as long as you like."

The Prince bowed slightly. "Enjoy your ride." He emphasized the last word with a twinkle in his eye.

Éomer suppressed a shiver, packing his libido down into his boots. A married man did not let his gaze wander, did not allow himself to contemplate illicit encounters with attractive acquaintances and absolutely never lusted after his wife's brother.

Amrothos hugged his sister and kissed her cheek "Remember what I told you about riding; always face the end with the mane on it."

She slapped him on the shoulder. "Beast!"

Éomer grinned. "Don't worry. I won't let her fall off her horse."

Amrothos's eyebrows arched. "Who said I was referring to horses?"

The Prince grinned rakishly, the embodiment of mischief, and Éomer found himself laughing in spite of his uneasiness. The handsome young man clasped his arm at the elbow and excused himself, walking in easy, fluid strides. Éomer caught himself watching and wrenched his gaze away.

"Shall we, love?" he asked his wife.

Lothiriel gave him a quizzical look, but nodded. Grooms brought forth their horses and, after Éomer personally checked the clasps and buckles, they were off. They rode hard and fast over the dry grasses, reveling in the sense of freedom. Obligation and duty often weighed so heavily upon them that they forgot what it was to live.

Éomer had promised Théodred once that he would not shut himself up behind stone walls, though, and he would honor that promise 'til the end of his days.

They paused at noon by a brook they favored -- the very spot Théodred had first mounted Éomer upon -- and laid down a blanket. As they ate a light lunch and sipped ale from a shared flask, Lothiriel talked about her latest clash with the ladies of the court. Since her arrival, she had taken great delight in exploring new ways to vex and aggravate the women who flocked to the young King's court.

Éomer tried to pay attention -- truly, he did -- but a vast portion of his thoughts were focused on a pair of blue eyes and sandy-blond hair that hung alluringly in front of them. They said elven blood ran through the Dol Amrothian noble family, and he had personally come to believe it, as much time as he had spent drinking in Lothiriel's naked beauty.

But the legend was made manifest in the city's youngest Prince. Not tall and blocky like the men of the Riddermark, nor burly and compact like the Gondorians -- Amrothos had high cheek-bones and a perfect, sculpted chin. His skin was smooth enough to make a court lady jealous and his fingers were nimble, delicate, as only an elven archer's would be. Éomer would not be at all surprised to see the distinctly angled ears he had grown used to when the lady Arwen's party had come through.

"So, then, just when the stupid bint thought she had the upper hand..." Lothiriel was saying.

Éomer's groin twitched. His blood was racing and his mouth was dry. Unable to fight back his libido any more, he covered Lothiriel's mouth with his and pressed her down to the blankets. Accustomed to his spontaneous, demanding nature, she instantly melted into the kiss. Her husband was a powerful man, but he was a tender lover.

***

Later -- considerably later -- they lay in each other's arms, letting their hearts gradually slow down to a normal pace. Lothiriel felt like a small boat that had been rocked by a mighty storm. He had not hurt her -- it was beyond him to hurt her -- but there had been a passion and a burning need that she had never yet experienced. It had left her sore, but not in a bad way. She was also immensely satisfied. Smiling, she pillowed her head on her stallion's chest and traced patterns across his ribs.

 

Éomer, for his part, found himself wracked with guilt. He loved his wife -adored -- worshipped, even...and yet even during the most frantic moments of their lovemaking he had been distracted by thoughts of her brother. He could almost see the smudge on his honor -- a speck of tarnish that no one but he would notice and yet would plague him all the same.

He ran a hand through her hair, marveling how soft it was. He did not know what magical secret she knew, but her hair was always like strands of silk. "I was wondering, love, why haven't we received notice of your youngest brother's betrothal?"

"Likely because he isn't getting married," she told him with a breathy laugh.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, but it always amuses me when you try to be circumspect. I keep telling you that bluntness is your strength."

"It's not a kingly trait."

"Amrothos had a very wise bit of advice on that, when I asked him how I should go about being Queen. He said, 'fuck protocol.'"

"That's hardly queenly language."

"I'm lying naked in an open field with my husband, being stared at by passing sheep and you're lecturing me on etiquette?"

"Um..."

She giggled, groping him. "Fuck protocol, darling. You're the King."

He groaned, stirring. "Okay then, why isn't your brother married?"

"Amro?"

"Now you're being deliberately vexing," he complained.

"Yes, I am." She teased his hardened member. "Aren't we the insatiable one?"

He groaned. Her delicate fingers could drive him wild. He let his eyes shut and breathed deep of her scent, feeling at once contented and restless.

"We've yet to find a girl that has the patience to withstand a relationship with my brother."

"What does that mean?"

"I love my brother, truly I do, but I doubt he'll ever be happy with a single bedmate. He has a wandering eye that causes our father no end of embarrassment. And Elphir has been known to faint dead away at news of Amro's exploits."

"Is that why he's here? To give your father a respite?"

"Partly," she conceded. "Our father sends him off frequently, whenever he's on the verge of dishonoring an important person's daughter or otherwise causing grief for our family."

Éomer laughed. "Dol Amrothians are a proper lot."

Her grip firmed around him. "Not all of us..."

***

The lilting tune was soothing, made the more so by the resonating voice that gave it wings. Éomer listened in rapt attention, amazed by the fluid turning from one note to the next, to the way the song invoked feelings of the ebb and flow of the sea. The calling of the ocean was embodied in the song, and the longing touched even a man who knew only horses and grasses.

Dinner that night had been a private affair in Éomer's quarters. Afterwards, over mead and sweet breads, Lothiriel had bragged of her brother's voice. The normally boisterous Prince had grown shy, but with some coaxing, he had finally stood and given them this song.

As the final notes trailed off, Éomer gave a huge smile. "Your sister was not exaggerating."

Blushing slightly at the praise, Amrothos took up his mug and sipped. "You are very kind to say so. But my voice is just a pale imitation of my mother's."

Lothiriel smiled in sympathy and squeezed her brother's hand. The two siblings exchanged a look, sharing a private hurt. Rather than feel excluded, Éomer felt honored they would show this rare moment of emotion to him.

"Now," Amrothos said, breaking the spell. "I think the King of the Mark must give us a tune in trade."

"Oh no!" Éomer protested with a laugh. "The only songs I know are the ones that need a whole éored to sing properly."

"I hardly believe that," the Prince said with a smile that threatened to turn the King's knees to water.

Lothiriel did not seem inclined to come to his aid. She smiled sweetly at him and leaned back in her chair.

Éomer did know a few tunes -- songs he had sung to his sister when they were children -- but he was quite intimidated by the thought of following Amrothos's dulcet harmony with his coarse baritone.

But some part of him could not back down from a challenge handed to him, so he stood. "This is a song about King Helm," he announced. Stumbling at first, he went into the song like a virgin bride goes to her wedding bed. To his ears, his voice warbled and strained painfully, but he saw only pleasant enjoyment on the faces of his two listeners.

When he was finished at last, he took a long swig of mead and sat, feeling self-conscious and foolish.

Amrothos raised his mug in salute. "He's not half the barbarian you make him out to be in your letters, sister," he remarked with an impish grin.

Lothiriel threw a pillow at him. "I do no such thing."

The Prince stretched like a cat. "I notice you have a Stratagem board on the table over there."

Éomer nodded. "It was a wedding gift from Ellesar. Though it does little more than gather dust, as no one here but I knows how to play."

Amrothos's eyes glittered. "I've been known to go a bout or two."

Lothiriel laughed. "A bout or two? You were crushing father when you were ten."

Her brother affected a hurt look. "Quiet, sister. You'll frighten him off."

Éomer grinned. "Not likely."

His wife gave him a pitying look. "Don't complain later that I didn't warn you."

He watched her stand and smooth her dress. "Where are you going?"

"I am going to sleep. I cannot bear to watch the impending slaughter." She grinned and kissed him. "Watch your pikemen," she whispered into his ear.

"I heard that," Amrothos murmured.

She smiled sweetly at him. "Of course you did. I was just offering him some friendly advice to my husband."

She kissed his cheek and glided from the room.

Éomer watched her go, following the sway of her hips with a familiar longing.

"We can do this another time," Amrothos said, following his gaze. "If you have something more...entertaining to do."

Éomer retrieved the Stratagem board. "Oh, you are not escaping me so easily."

The Prince grinned in response. "Escaping you is hardly foremost on my mind."

Éomer was not sure how to respond to that, so he chose not to. He gave Amrothos the opening gambit, as guest, and watched in horror over the next half hour the way his opponent pinned him in and carved up his assaults. There was no doubt that the Prince was a deft and subtle player.

"You lean heavily on your riders," Amrothos commented, sliding a pikeman over to pin an archer.

"You probably expected that," Éomer said thoughtfully, considering his next move.

"Well, yes. But that doesn't make it a bad strategy. Riders are capable of very cunning moves."

Éomer nodded slowly, repositioning his archer. "It took me a while to master the ways in which they can be used." He took a sip of mead and noticed Amrothos watching him. For no good reason, Éomer found himself blushing.

"Perhaps you can teach me some of those ways," the Prince said, returning his gaze to the game. He moved his pikeman again, now threatening a rider.

"Well, they can serve very well as distractions," Éomer informed him with a grin. He pushed his archer before Amrothos's sovereign. "Your are under threat."

His opponent raised an eyebrow. "Very nice." He picked up one of his own riders and used it to claim Éomer's offending archer.

Cursing the overconfidence that had cause him to miss the counter, the King of Rohan struggled to regroup. "I must confess, I've never faced anyone of your caliber." He cautiously moved a pikeman forward.

Amrothos grinned. "Thank you. I have many talents, actually." He claimed a rider with one of his own.

Éomer chuckled. "Your sister leads me to believe one or more of those 'talents' has put you out of your father's favor for a time." He started to move his other archer, changed his mind, and claimed a pikeman with his other rider.

The Prince actually blushed. "She did, did she? Well, Lothy does have an irrepressible need to gossip." He studied the board intently. "It's true that I was getting the feeling I should get away from home for a while, but I haven't exactly been banished, either." He moved his rider again.

"I didn't mean to make light," Éomer said, hoping he had not offended. He felt alarm, seeing the board with so few of his pieces and so many of his opponent's...as well as seeing how close that rider was to his sovereign. He moved the king piece back.

Amrothos's smile was lazy, indolent. "It is nothing to fret over. I bask in my reputation as a lover." He slid an archer forward. "And, if I'm not mistaken, that is the game."

Éomer gaped. How had he missed such an obvious move? The Prince was distracting him with all of his suggestive talk and burning stares...but that was not all of it. Amrothos was a masterful player.

"So it is."

Amrothos claimed the sovereign with a wicked smile. "There's something immensely satisfying about taking a king."

Éomer coughed uncomfortably. "Another game?"

The Prince smiled affably. "Why not?"

Four games and many hours later, the King of Rohan made it to bed. Lothiriel woke as he slid under the covers, snuggling against him. "I did warn you," she murmured into his chest.

_You didn't warn me that your brother is an incorrigible flirt with no respect for the wedding band on my finger,_ he wanted to say but chose not to.

"I almost won once," he said with a grin.

She slid against him, seeking his warmth. Something hard jabbed into her belly, demanding attention. She propped herself on an elbow and fondled her husband. Éomer moaned softly. He desperately wanted attention, but he had told himself not to expect anything so late.

"Well, I think I can soothe the bruises to your ego," she whispered, kissing him deeply.

He cupped one of her breasts in his hand through her shift. He was very fond of the two soft, creamy-skinned mounds. They fit very well into his large hands and responded almost instantly to his touch. Even now, he could feel a hardened nub straining against the thin fabric.

Lothiriel sighed contentedly and wriggled out of the shift. Naked against her husband, she yielded to his strong, powerful hands, feeling her body awaken from her toes to her scalp. When he plunged into her, his rampant cock demanding and forceful, she could not help but cry out in pure ecstasy.

Éomer smiled down at her, sheathed within her, feeling her respond to his lust with her own passion. She had been raised a proper princess, in a very proper society, and it had taken him long hours of gentle ministrations to help her realize how good sex could feel.

He wondered how Amrothos had broken his bonds; if he had simply been wild from birth. Angry with himself for thinking of the Prince when he was driving into his wife, he banished the dishonorable thoughts and drove down deeper and harder.

***

Life in Meduseld went on quite normally over the next few days for everyone save the King. He attended his audiences, he made his proclamations and pronounced his judgments. The courtiers and functionaries did their duties as well, blithely ignoring the increasing tension in their King's posture.

The women at court giggled when he walked by, now. Lothiriel's rather noisy reactions to his increased ardor were the main topic of rumor. The usually vague curiosity about what hung between the King's legs had become a central question to the gossip-mongers. For it must be truly impressive, they reasoned, to inspire such cries as could be heard nightly from the Royal bed-chambers.

Éomer knew nothing of this. He paid little attention to the whispers at court as it was and at this time, most of his concentration was on a pair of dazzling blue eyes and the guilt that followed each lewd thought. The fact that he could not speak to anyone about it made it that much worse.

He found himself missing Éowyn terribly.

Éomer was not a man to allow himself self-pity, though, so all he could do was brood. Or sulk, as Lothiriel referred to it on those sporadic incidents when she dared to broach the subject. She was positively the last person he could talk to. How could he ever explain to her that his heart was loyal but his body was having other ideas?

For his part, Amrothos stayed on the side of the line Éomer had put him on. He flirted openly, he lured the King into long nights of Stratagem games, he even took to riding with him sometimes, but he never made a single overt move. In a way, it was almost more fun throwing out lewd hints and watching the King of the Mark panic.

***

Laying beside Lothiriel, panting, late one night, he let his thoughts wander free. It was getting harder to control the fantasies, and sometimes he just let them run. It was a blow to his pride, but just a little one.

"Dear..." Lothiriel began, catching her breath. "I was wondering... You spoke so fondly of your times with Théodred...why haven't you been with a man since?"

He went cold all over. Had be betrayed himself somehow? Made her doubt his commitment to her? No, it was just an innocent query.

_Stop acting like a hunted buck!_

"Well...there was hardly time, love. The grief held me in check for quite some time, and then the war came...and then uncle Théoden died and I had to learn to be King and then I had you."

She toyed with his chest hairs. "Are you saying you don't because you're married?"

Feeling uncomfortable, he nodded, looking into her eyes. "Mounting between the Rohirrim men is a thing done out of friendship -- something to keep bastards from being born and yet to keep young riders from exploding with sexual frustration. Once you're married, there's hardly any need to."

"But being with a woman is different than being with a man. I think. I hope..."

He smiled at her furrowed brow. "Yes, quite different."

"Better or worse?"

He thought about that for a moment. "Neither. Just different."

That answer seemed to satisfy her. "So, if it's different and you enjoy it, why do you stop when you're married?"

"I have oaths to you." He really didn't understand where she was going with this.

"Well, yes. But you're also wearing me out," she said with a tiny smile.

He blinked. "I don't understand."

"Why aren't you fucking my brother?"

"Lothiriel!" "Fuck protocol, remember?"

He felt his cheeks burning. "I...that is... I love you. I promised to be true to you."

Lothiriel positively beamed. "I love you too. But that doesn't answer my question. How would fucking Amrothos cause you to be false to me?"

Finding himself on the other side of his argument, Éomer stuttered to a halt and looked for familiar ground. "You...wouldn't mind?"

She laughed gently at him and caressed his cheek. "I invited my brother here for this very purpose. Well, also because I wanted to see him, but mainly because I needed a respite."

The King gaped at her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you'd figure things out on your own. I didn't know your nobility would cause you to become impossible dense."

The love in her eyes softened the barb. "Here I'm being loyal and you're making fun of me."

She laughed again. "Well, my brother's been quite miserable. He almost left yesterday, as a matter of fact."

Éomer did his best to grasp this change of things. "You're really okay with this?"

She leaned in close, nose to nose with him. "Éomer of Rohan, I adore you, I love the way you make love to me...but I think it's a bit rougher than our baby can handle."

He blinked a few times. "Baby?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention that?"

The big man eyes went wide as a child's. "Baby?"

She kissed him. "Yes, love. Or, I think so. If not, when I am, it will help me to know you're not eyeing the horses in desperation for months on end."

He wrapped her in his great arms and held her to him, his whole world tilting left and then right. His heart was so filled with love for her at that moment that he felt he could not bear it. Holding her close, he kissed her hair and stared into the darkness. She was indeed a rare and wonderful woman.

***

Éomer was not a petty or spiteful man, but he did have a very strong instinct to turn a joke back upon a person, if able. Years of torment at Éowyn's hands had taught him that vengeance was a sweet dish indeed...

**_TBC_ **


	2. Wicked Games: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after "Sunset Ride", Eomer hosts his wife's brother Amrothos, unaware of the true reason for the Prince's visit. The two end up stalking around difficult issues like honor, marriage, and plain old-fashioned lust...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know Lothiriel was incorrect in her fears that omer's roughness would endanger her baby. A lady of her time would not necessarily know that. So no snippy "you're a stupid male" comments. :)

This story contains **explicit homosexual sex** \-- consider yourself warned. Contact the author with archival requests.

******

**Part Two**

Amrothos had begun to despair of Éomer ever returning his advances. Which was a real shame, in his estimation, because in some of his more frank discussions with Lothiriel he had come to believe Éomer would be absolutely amazing between the sheets. But whatever his sister had based her suspicions about her husband's openness upon had proven less than reliable.

Or so he had begun to think, until quite suddenly the skittish King began to trade innuendo for innuendo, look for look.

The game suddenly gained new life and Amrothos threw himself into it with enthusiasm. Unfortunately, kingly affairs interceded, limiting their interactions to a few flirtatious glances at lunch. Even dinner, which had become a customary event for they and Lothiriel, had to be cancelled so the King could meet with an aggrieved landowner.

Happily, though, he received a summons to their nightly Stratagem game. In Amrothos' mind, this was the end of the chase. He wore a huge grin on his face (and loose clothing upon his body) as he glided to the King's quarters.

Upon entering, he found Éomer in his seat, the board already set up. That drew Amrothos up short, for he had half-expected to find the man naked and waiting. The Rider's expression was pensive, distracted. Only then did the Prince truly realize this man was a King with heavy burdens to bear. He was not some tavern girl to be dragged into a back room.

Accepting that Éomer needed some time to relax, he settled down at the board with a graceful smile and a quiet hello.

"I think I'll have you tonight."

Amrothos' heart skipped a beat, and then he realized the King was referring to their contest. The Prince laughed off his surprise. "We'll see."

They played three very tough games. Éomer was in rare form. He had learned much from their previous matches and the Dol Amrothian found he was hard put to corner his adversary as easily as he had before.

When Éomer finally tipped over his sovereign at the end of the fourth game, Amrothos leaned back and twisted his neck from side to side.

"Stiff?"

_In more ways than one,_ the Prince thought. "Yes."

Éomer rose and stepped behind his chair. "You must forgive me. I hardly realized how late it had become."

"It's of no...oh...my..."

The King's large, powerful hands had closed on the Prince's shoulders and were kneading forcefully. Éomer smiled. "Better?"

"Oh...much... Where did you learn this little trick?"

"When you ride long distances, you learn to help a friend with stiffness," explained the Rider.

"That certainly makes sense. The only thing you learn to do for a friend on a ship is to hold the bucket for their sick so it doesn't spill all over the deck."

Éomer laughed. He reached down and unlaced the Prince's shirt. Amrothos caught his breath, surprised that **The Moment** had arrived and he had not seen it coming. He reflexively touched the King's hand, but the angle was bad, so he let his hands drop back to his lap.

Éomer tugged the collar wide around the Prince's shoulders so he could slip under the fabric and contact bare skin. Amrothos closed his eyes and let the comfortable sensation wash over him. His sister's husband was indeed skilled with his hands.

"I fear you'll put me to sleep."

"Not yet," Éomer murmured.

The Prince rocked gently as the strong fingers plied his tense muscles. It was easy to forget, when you were sitting across from him, just how big a man Éomer really was. His great arms could easily enfold a person, especially a person as lean as the Dol Amrothian Prince.

Éomer pulled his fingers free and moved lower, pulling the shirt up so he could tend to the Prince's back. Amrothos leaned bonelessly forward. The feeling of calloused fingers on his smooth skin sent ripples of excitement through him, which he suppressed. For now, they would go at Éomer's pace.

"You're improving at Stratagem. I won't be able to beat you for much longer, if you keep at it."

The King laughed. "You flatter me. I gave you everything I had in that last match. I just don't see everything like I need to. I think I'm just a warrior at heart; I just want to get to the fight and get it done with."

Amrothos chuckled. "I still say you're in danger of becoming a strategist. Not even my father ever took my Lady."

"You did seem surprised."

"I was. It was a brilliant move. Threatening her almost guaranteed I'd leave my Sovereign open."

"Almost."

"Well, I was about to fall for it when I asked myself why you would jeopardize one of your Riders to take her. That's when I looked for the feint."

Éomer pulled his hands out from under the Prince's shirt and cracked his knuckles. "Well, if that didn't work. I don't know what will."

Amrothos stretched, smiling contentedly. "I'll be more cautious around you, that's for sure."

The King grinned. "Well, it's very late. I'm going to get some sleep."

He squeezed Amrothos' shoulder and excused himself. The Prince stared after him, dumbfounded. There was a next step in their little dance and he was quite sure this was not it. Yet, looking at the closed door, he had to accept that the night was indeed over.

The next day Éomer was distracted, distant. Amrothos could not fathom it. He was sure the King was interested, yet suddenly he was being evasive and aloof. At lunch, the Rider spoke almost exclusively with his men, barely sparing a glance for the Prince. And that evening, they played one game and Éomer excused himself.

The pattern replayed day after day over the next week. Lothiriel was of no help at all. She explained that her husband was very consumed with state matters and that he just had to be patient. That advice was barely adequate for his head and did nothing to address the growing restlessness in his pants.

Amrothos began to consider other partners. There certainly were a plethora of long-legged riders and busty-women to choose from. They were nothing compared to the prize he sought, but sometimes one had to accept a less favorable port in a storm.

***

As he chatted up a young rider one morning, a shadow fell over him. He looked up at the King -- who stood half a foot taller than him. "Yes?" he asked, more than a little peevishly.

Éomer clapped him on the shoulder. "The council meeting this morning was cancelled. I was wondering if you would like to go fishing?"

"Fishing?" Amrothos asked incredulously. _If it means fishing in your pants, yes_...

"Yes, I know a good spot. Very secluded..."

Amrothos smiled devilishly. This was a game he understood. "That sounds lovely."

"Good then," Éomer said happily.

Amrothos breathed a massive sigh of relief. He quickly changed into riding clothes, packed a few essentials he was hoping he would need, and headed down to the stables. He realized, most of the way there, that he was running like an anxious child and that would not do. Éomer did not deserve to see him so excited.

He slowed to a more casual pace, noting with some curiosity that there was a great deal of activity in the stables. His brow furrowed as he approached, seeing a dozen horses being readied -- Éomer's among them.

The King came over to him, slipping on riding gloves. "My guards insist on coming along."

_They never did before_... Amrothos could not believe Éomer's audacity. There were games and there was insult. But he was a Prince and he would not show either his anger or his disappointment.

"That is good. Perhaps, if we catch anything, they can cook it for us."

The Prince swept past the King, going to his horse and mounting up. He settled himself in his saddle and waited, affecting his most indifferent expression. The King and his men swung into their saddles and headed west, off the beaten road. Amrothos fell in beside Éomer, made a joke to show he could play too, and then assumed a neutral look.

The pond they stopped at was an hour away. The riders laid out food and blankets, cavorting with each other good-naturedly as they did so. Amrothos looked for the young man he had been flirting with this morning -- a tumble in the bushes would chase away his frustration -- but his target was nowhere to be seen.

With as much grace as he could muster, he bared his feet and went to sit with his toes in the water. Tomorrow he was leaving, no matter what absurd excuses his sister made. There was only so much he could take, after all. Only so much a Prince _should_ take.

He dozed for a bit, contented by the familiar feeling of water lapping at his feet. When he awoke, it was with a start, unsure what had brought him around. He looked about and saw, to his shock, the Riders departing at a thunderous pace. This might have pleased him if he did not see Éomer at their head.

"What is going on?" he asked aloud, scrambling to find his boots.

"King Éomer had to leave. Urgent business."

Amrothos whipped around and saw a Rider approaching on foot. "He had me stay behind to escort you back to Meduseld when you wished to go. My name is Eogel."

The Prince fought back an enraged outburst. This man had done nothing to earn his ire. Later, he would have a few choice words for the King of the Mark, but for now...he just wished to go and get his things packed.

"I know the way. I don't need an escort."

Eogel shrugged. "I have my orders. And the Mark is not always a safe place." Amrothos jerked on his boots. "Fine."

He saddled his horse and indicated that Eogel should lead on. If the Rider sensed his mood, he did not show it. He simply shrugged and turned his horse. Glowering like a thundercloud, Amrothos followed.

They went at a leisurely pace, which frustrated the Prince. He did not know if the Rider was holding back because he thought little of his charge's riding skill or what, but the pace was intolerable.

"See if you can keep up," he finally muttered and heeled his horse into a run.

"Sir, I wouldn't..."

But Eogel's protests went unheard. Amrothos charged ahead, finding release -- to some degree -- in the feeling of the wind on his face. He soared over half-buried boulders and plunged through tall grasses like all the orcs of Mordor were on his tail. It was wonderful, it was exhilarating...

It was also a mistake.

One minute he was in grasses up to his horse's ears and the next he was in the water, thrown from his saddle. Cursing, he struggled to his feet and checked on his mount. The placid gelding was fine, though the look he threw to his rider was plainly accusatory.

"Sorry. That was stupid."

His horse looked like he agreed.

Eogel came up behind him. "I was going to say, sir, to be wary of the marshes."

"I don't recall any marshes on the way to the pond," Amrothos growled.

"The King asked that I take you back via another route. Something to do with the emergency he was called to, I believe."

Amrothos shoved his sopping hair out of his face and glared at the Rider. The fact that this was his own fault was even more upsetting. "How much further?"

"Another hour, sir."

"Another...?" He sighed heavily. The fates seemed intent on making this the worst day of his life. "Fine."

"There is a hunting lodge a few minutes from here, sir. I could lead you to it and you could recover yourself there."

Amrothos' desire to get to Meduseld so he could get packed and leave this miserable Kingdom behind burned within him. But then he considered how it would be to arrive, wet, bedraggled and worn to the laughter of his sister and Éomer. It would certainly cause him to do something which would _not_ be good for Rohan/Dol Amroth relations.

"Lead on."

The hunting lodge was a solid structure of wood and stone. Clearly a place where a royal party would take their ease, it promised great comfort. To the frazzled and aggravated Prince, it appeared a haven from a world gone mad. He actually smiled at Eogel, who's humorless face did not react.

"I'll ride ahead and let them know you'll be delayed."

Amrothos nodded absently. "Very well."

"I'll be back for you before evening."

The Prince waved his hand dismissively. "That is fine."

He tied his horse up in the stable and pulled off his saddle. There were oats at the ready and a water pump nearby. Once his horse was taken care of, he went to investigate the lodge.

The interior was vast. Trophies adorned the walls. Great bear skin rugs covered the wooden floors. Couches and chairs were arrayed around a fire place. Amrothos thought happily of a fire and decided that was definitely in his future. First, though, he wanted to explore the house. He found bedrooms upstairs, each with their own hearth. The kitchen had mead aplenty and dried meats.

"My day may not be a total loss," he decided.

He stripped off his wet clothes and wrung them out over the kitchen basin. Then he lit the hearth in the main room and hung his clothes by its heat. Naked, he sauntered into the kitchen and appropriated a mug of mead and a few scraps of dried beef. Then he retreated upstairs to the room with the largest bed. This would be Éomer's, he was sure, and there was a certain satisfaction to be found in sprawling naked on the soft sheets of the man who had driven him half-mad with lust.

He smiled and shook his head. Grabbing a blanket, he settled himself on the rug before the hearth and built a fire. His bad temper eased with each sip of mead, and part of him even began to find the whole thing somewhat funny.

That was not to say he wasn't going to find a way to repay Éomer for tormenting him.

He shifted miserably and touched his much-neglected cock. He had not really liked masturbating since he had discovered how much more fun it was to have sex. Since his arrival, he had held back in the hopes of getting into the King's bed. The result had been an almost constant state of frustrated arousal that bordered on being painful.

The door opened suddenly and he started in surprise. Who would waltz into the King's bedroom...?

"Éomer!"

The King of the Mark nodded his head with a smirk. He wore a long, woolen robe embroidered with a mixture of swans and horses. Amrothos sensed his sister's handiwork in the garment, though he spared less than a second considering it.

Éomer closed the door behind him, still smiling. "Hello, Amro."

The Prince surged to his feet, forgetting his blanket. He stood naked before the King, quivering with shock and simmering anger. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, that business I left on? A ruse, I'm afraid."

"A ruse?" Amrothos heard the squeak of indignation in his voice and winced.

"Yes. I see Eogel did manage to get you soaked."

Amrothos' eyes bulged. "You...he..."

Éomer nodded. "I figured that by the time you arrived here, wet and miserable you'd be near to ready to murder me." He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Nearly."

"Well, it's only fair, you see. You taunted me with your innuendos and those glances of yours, knowing full well I was trapped by my vows to Lothiriel."

Amrothos coughed and blushed. "I didn't know...at first."

"Yes, and once you saw, you took much delight in taunting me."

The Prince tried to look innocent. "Perhaps a bit." He huffed. "I can't believe you conspired to nearly drowned me."

"Oh, you didn't nearly anything," Eomer objected.

"Well..." The Prince gradually became aware that he was utterly naked, but he also realized it was too late for false modesty. "Um...so, what now?"

Éomer smiled fondly. "Now I think it's time to end the torment for the both of us."

With that, he dropped the robe to the floor. He wore nothing underneath. The young Prince devoured the sight of him. From the long blond hair that hung in loose strands and seemingly random braids about broad shoulders, to the muscled planes of his chest and the corded muscles of his long legs; and most especially the cock, semi-hard, that hung between his legs.

Amrothos licked his lips, firelight sparkling in his eyes.

Éomer was similarly transfixed. The Prince was like no Rider, certainly. Short, by their standards, and very lean. He was nearly hairless, his skin shifting from the bronze on the more commonly exposed parts to a rich porcelain. He was much like his sister, but his chiseled features gave evidence of his manhood. As did the flaccid but intriguing member below his belly button.

The Rider was uncertain how the Prince was accustomed to joining, but he decided they would have to learn each others way as things progressed. He stepped over to Amrothos and cupped his handsome face in his hands and kissed him; long and deep and with great tenderness.

Their tongues tangled clumsily, the first contact of body to body bringing a nervous energy to them. Amrothos reached out and ran his hands down the Rider's back, trailing down the spine to the tail bone and circling forward. When his hands reached his partner's cock, he found it rigid and ready.

He broke the kiss and slid down to his knees, settling comfortably before the erection so desperate for attention. It was decidedly bigger than he was used to, but enticingly so. The Prince licked the tip of it, feeling the shaft throb in his hand. He smiled up at his partner, who had a beatific look on his face.

"I'm assuming you like having your cock sucked..."

Éomer made a noise between a purr and a growl. "Oh, yes."

It was not something Lothiriel was quite comfortable with yet.

"That's a relief. If you jumped in horror, I might accidentally hurt you."

The Rider grinned and tossed his head back. The Prince took the head into his mouth; tasting, savoring, teasing. His hands he moved to the taut thighs, bracing himself as he took inch after inch down his throat. The groan of pleasure resounded through Éomer's frame.

Amrothos smiled inwardly as a suspicion was confirmed. He had figured this was a sport his sister would not favor.

The Rider moved his hips back and forth slowly, groaning and grunting in sheer bliss. It had been far too long indeed since he had enjoyed this sensation -- more than just the sucking (though that in itself was glorious) but the feeling of a man pleasuring him. It was a peculiarly unique sensation. In a land where male pride was as cherished as a fast horse, two men yielding to each other took friendship to a whole different level.

"I don't...suppose...ah, er..."

In answer to the aborted question, Amrothos gripped the Rider's ass and pulled him in deeper. Éomer sighed and started thrusting with abandon. The Prince could take it -- and wanted to. There was no need to hold back.

"Oh...Bema..." he moaned, feeling climax rocket through him.

He went stiff all over, shuddering through a blinding orgasm. Amrothos kept sucking him, swallowing contentedly. Gasping, Éomer looked down with a dazed expression.

The Prince rocked back on his heels, smiling. "I wanted to do that from the moment I first saw you."

The Rider leaned down and kissed him, tasting the lingering traces of himself on his partner's lips. "You're incredible."

He scooped Amrothos up in his powerful arms and carried him over to the bed, laying him down gently. He retrieved the Prince's mead and brought it over to him.

"I thought you might want a sip of this."

The Prince nodded, taking the mug gratefully. "Thank you."

Éomer settled on the bed next to him and ran his hands over the lithe body, remarking how smooth the skin was. And sensitive, apparently, for his partner writhed noticeably under his explorations. The younger man set his mead aside and leaned back on the bed, making contented sounds as Éomer caressed him.

"I've never been sucked by a King," the Prince muttered with a wicked smile.

Éomer, his hand stroking his partner's hardened cock, grinned back at him. "I've not sucked anyone since taking the title."

He slid down the Prince's body, planting kisses in a straight line to the waiting erection. Thicker than any he had attempted before, it was a comfortable length for sucking. The Rider ran his tongue up along the shaft and swirled it around the head, taking delight in the way his partner twitched and shivered.

Amrothos tangled his fingers in his partner's long blond hair, basking in the sensation of having his cock tended by so powerful a man. Éomer was more eager than he had hoped, and the powerful, deep sucking made his toes curl.

His hips came up off the bed. "I sure hope you'll..."

Éomer grinned up at him and popped him out of his mouth a moment. "Do for you what you did for me?" He teased the slit at the head of the cock with his tongue.

"Yes..."

Éomer chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of missing it."

He dove back down, sucking every inch down his throat. The Prince gasped loudly, his fingers clutching at Éomer's hair. He thrust into the eager mouth frantically, yearning for release. The blond head bobbed up and down, meeting every one of his thrusts and suckling hard.

"Oh...yes..." Amrothos jaw clenched as climax finally came. Panting, shaking, he relaxed into the sheets. The Rider continued licking and suckling gently, nursing every last aftershock from him. The Prince groaned and writhed, feeling excitement build where exhaustion had tried to take root.

Éomer adjusted, climbing atop him so that his cock was at the Prince's mouth even as he continued to tease Amrothos' member back to life. The younger man smiled at the relentless drive -- so much like his own -- and leaned up to lick the semi-hard erection dangling before his face.

"There we are..." Éomer murmured as the Prince's cock hardened in reaction to his suddenly having a cock in his mouth again.

They sucked on each other hungrily, thrusting against each other and bobbing in time. The bed creaked under them. They rolled onto their sides and then again so Amrothos was on top. The lanky young man drove down into Éomer's mouth hard and fast, never having had anyone who could take it so well. In gratitude, he accepted all of the Rider's monstrous length into his mouth.

"Come...with me..." he whispered to his horny Rider.

His second orgasm was as powerful as the first, sundering his thoughts and sending spots across his vision. Even as he filled Éomer's mouth for the second time, he was swallowing the generous load of cum from his partner.

They collapsed, sweating, into each other's arms.

"Mead?" Amrothos asked unsteadily.

"Mead," Éomer affirmed.

They shared a few sips and then entwined again, kissing and touching with an intimacy their desperation had not allowed them.

"I might not let you return to Dol Amroth."

"I may not want to leave."

They shared a laugh, fondling each other companionably. They kissed again, lingering and hungry. Éomer's great arms enfolded his partner and pulled him atop of him. The smaller man stretched out across the Rider, pinning his hands to the bed and melding their mouths together. Their hips ground together, almost of their own accord, as undiminished arousal caused their cocks to stir once more.

The Prince grinned brightly, his hair hanging in his eyes and his dimples making him look almost innocent. "You are as insatiable as my sister said."

"Should I be worried that my wife is talking so openly about my sexual prowess to her brothers?"

"Just her favorite one," Amrothos assured him and leaned down to devour his mouth once more.

Éomer bucked his hips gently, straining against the hot and hard body above him, in a state of bliss that bordered on delirium. Even his beloved cousin had not held up so well. He remembered, with a bittersweet turning of his thoughts, the way Théodred had whined dramatically when the younger royal cousin had pawed at him after a second bout.

Amrothos pulled back and traced a finger down his cheek. "You went away for a moment there."

The King smiled, banishing the old hurt. "It's nothing."

"Your cousin?"

Éomer nodded, finding he was not surprised or uncomfortable. "My sister told you a lot, I see."

The Prince laughed softly. "I pried details out of her like one pulls the meat out of a crab's shell."

"Crab?"

Amrothos looked plainly astonished. "You've never had crab? I see there are more delights I have to share with you."

Éomer shrugged somewhat, accepting. He arched forward and claimed the Prince's lips again, rolling him back on to the bed. His blond hair formed a curtain around their faces, pressed so closely together. Amrothos tangled his fingers in it, tugging playfully, demandingly.

When they broke again, they were breathing heavily. Éomer slid off him, stroking his cheek and trailing long fingers over his chest. The Prince whimpered happily, gripping at the sheets. He could not recall a time when he had stayed so long on the crest of ecstasy.

Suddenly, being the "extra" Prince was not such a bad fate.

Éomer stroked him gently, gazing deeply into his eyes. Amrothos was beautiful, but his beauty did not blur the lines between masculine and feminine. Taut as a bowstring, muscled like a colt, lean as a willow reed, he was nothing like Éomer was accustomed to, and that created its own allure.

He touched the Prince's soft lips, smiling when his fingertips were kissed and nursed upon. "I want to mount you, if you're ready."

"I feared you'd never ask."

He turned the Prince so he faced away, hands caressing and plying sweat-glistened flesh. Amrothos melted under his touch, trusting him utterly. Éomer dipped a finger in a jar of scented oil that was always near to any bed he kept, extracting a liberal amount.

The Prince groaned as fingers penetrated him, his toes curling and his back arching in pleasure. The Rider was very gentle, allowing him to relax and accept the intimate invasion. Once the second finger joined the first, he felt sure he would come apart from the paroxysm of ecstasy.

But better yet awaited him, and when he felt the huge man melding against his back he could not suppress a shiver of eagerness.

Lying on their sides allowed Amrothos to better control the speed of Éomer's entry, a fact he silently thanked the well-endowed Rider for. The soft head pressed in and then the first couple of rock hard inches. The oil made the passage almost easy, but the girth was still something to contend with.

"Tempests, you're hung," he groaned.

Éomer laughed in his ear. "We've barely begun."

"I know. I...ah..."

The King pushed forward, past the ring of muscle and deeper into his partner's willing body. Amrothos shuddered and writhed, whimpering for more even as he gasped at what was already within him.

Éomer slid a hand down his partner's side soothingly, calming him and giving him pause to gather his wits. Then he lifted one of the Prince's knee to allow him easier access and shoved a little more of his throbbing cock inside. A high-pitched gasp filled the air, followed by a hearty laugh.

"I hope you're nearly home, because much more and it'll be in my teeth."

The King nibbled playfully on his neck. In response, the Prince reached back and stroked his cheek, sighing happily.

Éomer shoved the rest of the way home, forcing a cry from the young man's lips.

"Now we're home."

"Fucking tempest in a harbor..." Amrothos breathed. "I've never felt anything like this."

He had not either. The King's cock was a massive rod inside him, deeper and thicker than any he had enjoyed before. He gritted his teeth and ground back against the man who had filled so many of his dreams.

They undulated gently together, Éomer's cock sliding slightly from its sheath and then sliding back home. It was a glorious feeling, and something the Prince reveled in finally being rewarded with. Pushing and shifting against the larger man got him so excited, he feared he'd climaz too soon.

"Roll..." Éomer purred.

They repositioned without him unsheathing, ending up with the Prince on his knees and elbows on the bed. The Rider covered his slender partner like an alpha wolf with a female, complete with the barest whisper of a growl.

"Are you ready?"

Amrothos tried to make some quip, but he found his voice failed him. So he only nodded silently, bracing himself for the impending assault.

The King gripped his hips and drew back with his battering ram of a cock, basking in the warm tightness of his friend. His first thrust was fluid and even, a test for his partner. The adorable whimper, muffled by the blankets, was both permission and encouragement.

Éomer pulled back and drove home, harder this time. A sharp groan this time was his reward. He started into a hard, pounding rhythm, using his friend's body as they both wanted and needed him to. All the way out and then swiftly back in to the hilt, hard and fast until the whole bed shook with the power of it.

Amrothos' vision blurred. He threw his head back and cried out in pure ecstasy, giving himself over totally to the sensation of being taken. His every nerve snapped to new life, registering ripples of pleasure from his fingers to his toes.

"Harder..." he growled.

Éomer dug his toes into the coverlets and complied, driving hard and deep and fast into the young man who yelled and howled in bliss at every thrust. He had not let loose like this in a very long time. Even in the recent joinings with his wife, as frantic and pulse-pounding as they had been, he had held back.

After a seeming eternity, he slowed, panting and sweating. Amrothos moaned and arched his back. "You're not worn out already, are you?" he asked in an unsteady voice.

Éomer thrust leisurely. "Not by half." He traced fingers down his partner's back, feeling the sweat there as well. "But I rather want this to last."

He pulled the young man back until he was on his knees with Amrothos straddling his thighs. He reached around and touched the Prince's raging erection.

"Er, ah, oh... Éomer...I don't think I can control myself if you do that..."

The Rider chuckled. "Good."

He bucked gently, stroking the rigid cock in his hand. The Prince leaned back against him and surrendered. Helplessly, he fucked the Rider's hand even as the massive erection filled him utterly. Pleasure doubled and transformed to ecstasy and finally exploded in a climax that caused him to nearly faint.

Still thrusting, Éomer licked his fingers happily. "Very nice."

"Mmmm..."

Amrothos tossed his sweat-soaked bangs out of his eyes and lifted himself up and down on his partner's cock. The room was sweltering. He smiled, telling himself he'd be this hot in the middle of the snows. And be happy to be so.

"Let me look in your eyes when I finish."

Amrothos paused rolling his eyes back at his friend. "As the King commands."

Éomer laughed and pushed him forward. Amrothos settled on his back and lifted his knees. The Rider covered him again, entering him in a single smooth motion. They grunted together, pausing to bask in the sensation of being joined again.

"Think you can give it to me as hard this way?" the Prince challenged.

"Let's find out."

His feet clawed for purchase even as his powerful legs started up a new, frantic thrusting pace. The pliant body beneath him contorted with the onslaught, giving him as much leverage as he needed to plow in deep. The bed shook beneath them once more and even skittered a bit on the wooden floors.

Éomer grunted and panted, his whole body wound tight as a spring. His cock, sheathed in such blissful tightness, swelled and throbbed as climax built at the doors of his control. He could not hold back for long, though, and soon he was crying out hoarsely as he released within Amrothos' body.

They collapsed into each other's arms once more, sweating and shaking. Éomer brushed his Prince's bangs from his eyes and kissed him tenderly, holding him tightly as the echoes of orgasm faded. Sated for the moment, he felt sleep tug at his eyelids.

Amrothos' eyes were bright, but his smile was also tired. "You're amazing," he whispered.

The King stirred somewhat. "Me? I've never had anyone take that sort of...force... Are you sure I didn't break you?"

The Prince chuckled. "Not hardly."

Éomer rolled onto his back and Amrothos flopped across his chest. Their heartbeats slowed, beating in counter-rhythm. The silence of the room took them, lulling them into a light sleep. Éomer dreamed of vast fields with tall grasses and brisk winds and a young man with sparkling eyes.

Amrothos dreamed of powerful arms holding him safe and secure.

The Rider woke first, starting from sleep as part of him realized he was not in his bed in Meduseld. He took in his situation quickly, and then memory filled in the rest. He grinned and ran his hand down the Prince's back.

Amrothos woke, blinking sleepily at him. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Éomer kissed him and winked. "We needed it, I think." His stomach growled and he laughed. "I think other needs woke me."

Amrothos sat up, stretching with his arms above his head. Éomer drank in the sight of his nakedness with a lusty look, causing the Prince to blush. "You can't possibly be ready again."

"Well, perhaps not yet...but I certainly enjoy looking at that body of yours."

The Prince stretched again deliberately, affecting an innocent look. "What a nice thing to say."

Éomer sat up and kissed his neck, nipping slightly at the flesh. "There is a bath...with room enough for two...if you're of a mind."

Amrothos sniffed the air and winced. "I think that's an excellent idea." It did not take long to draw the water and heat some of it to make the basin steam slightly. The two slipped into the tub a smooth stone basin recessed into the floor of the bathing chamber -- and curled up contentedly together.

Some time later, cleaned and refreshed, they dried off and padded naked back to the bedroom. Amrothos glanced at the bed and then back at the King. "Which of your desires do you wish to sate first?"

Éomer placed his hands on the man's hips and smirked. "Well, I've had you. I can wait until after we eat."

"Tired of me already?" Amrothos tried but did not succeed in looking hurt.

"Not even close."

Éomer started to look for his robe and then told himself to not be so silly. No one would come here. Naked, he sauntered out of the room, feeling remarkably satisfied with himself.

Amrothos started to follow and then paused, glancing at the bed-stand and the earthenware jar of oil. A wicked smile crossed his face.

_Always good to be prepared_...

Downstairs, Éomer was rummaging through a pack he had thoughtfully brought with him. Contained therein was some cold chicken, a few slices of bread and a bit of cheese. He divided up the provisions and located a bottle of ale.

Amrothos padded in, his gaze falling on the food with obvious interest. "I see you planned well."

Éomer grinned. "We Rider's like to see that we are prepared."

Amrothos nibbled some of the cheese. "What would you have done if I had sent you on your way?"

"I imagine I'd have spent a great deal of time masturbating."

The Prince choked. "That would have been a real shame." He snatched Éomer's mug from his hands and sipped. "I must say, your ale is quite good."

"Well, we perfected the recipe after we stopped worrying about burning a hole on someone's gut."

Amrothos' eyebrow arched. "I see."

They chatted companionably as they ate, seemingly unaware of the fact they were both nude and that they had shared three mind-shattering orgasms. At one point, they were even trading jokes about Lothiriel.

Though that was what existed between them on the surface, hiding behind every innocuous remark was a lewd comment or burning glance. Their joining had sated their curiosity, but not their lust.

Éomer stopped in mid-sentence, looking at the leer being blatantly thrown his way. He licked his lips and leaned back against the heavy kitchen table. "I'm getting the impression we should adjourn upstairs."

Amrothos shook his head. "The sheets are a mess."

"There are other beds..."

"There's right here," the Prince purred, stepping forward and kissing him.

Éomer returned the kiss happily, his arms enfolding the slender young man and pressing him close. Soon their hands were wandering, teasing nerves still raw from the last climax. Both were surprised by how quickly they responded, feeling their cocks rising and tapping against each other.

Amrothos sank to his knees, licking and sucking on the erection he now knew so well. The Rider groaned, held his partner's head, and thrust gently forward. Climax was not nearly so important now as the sensation. The feeling of the Prince's lips, the powerful sucking, the warmth sliding back and forth...

Amrothos stood, licking his lips and eyes alight. "When was the last time the King was mounted?"

Éomer blinked, startled. "Some time." Suddenly shy, he looked down. "I actually only ever granted one man that honor."

Amrothos touched his cheek. "I don't have to."

Éomer considered it. There was nothing about the idea that bothered him. With the few Riders he had played with that weren't Théodred, there had been protocol and appearances to consider. The sister-son of the King did not dare get a reputation as one who submitted.

But this was altogether different.

His tossed his blond mane proudly, his features relaxing. "Where do you want me?"

Unfettered lust flashed in Amrothos' eyes. "Just grip the edge of that table."

A blond eyebrow arched up. "Shall I find a stool for you to stand on?"

The Prince's eyes narrowed. "I'm not that short."

Laughing, the Rider turned and leaned down to grip the table edge, spreading his ankles apart. A bout of self-consciousness slithered over him, but he recognized it as absurd and adamantly denied it a foothold.

The Prince returned, oil jar in hand. He took in the muscled beauty of his partner's backside with an appreciative smile. Though he had desperately wanted this, for some reason he had been timid about asking. His reticence had annoyed him enough that he had finally made that small joke, uncertain how it would be received.

Now here he was, slipping oiled fingers into the Rider's body, gently as could be done. For all his uneasiness, Éomer was surprisingly relaxed. In mere moments, Amrothos set the jar aside and molded against the larger man's back.

"Stool to stand on indeed," he murmured.

Éomer laughed, bowing his head at the first, firm push. His cousin had been impossibly hung, so he had much practice in relaxing and accepting a cock into himself, but the first moments always made him a little light-headed.

"Tight as a virgin," Amrothos taunted. "I think your much-vaunted experience is just a ruse."

"I think you'd be better off talking less and fucking more."

"So demanding..."

Nonetheless, Amrothos did begin pushing his way home, sheathing himself within his lover's body and melding against him. He wrapped his arms around Éomer's waist, hugging and then caressing the muscled chest. The Rider groaned and tossed his mane again, awash in the heady feeling of penetration.

Amrothos started thrusting in long, deep strokes. Éomer pushed back in time, meeting each shove with a satisfied grunt. They moved together in perfect synch, their pace speeding as their bodies burned hotter with need.

Before long, the Rider's whole upper body was bent over the table and the Prince was fucking him with abandon, gripping his hips for leverage. Their soft cries and deep moans filled the lodge.

Amrothos panted and bit his lower lip, striving towards the release he could feel so tantalizingly close. After three powerful orgasms, this one danced just out of his reach, leaving him stranded on the edge of climax. Drunk with the incredible feeling, he pounded and thrust and shoved wildly, enjoying every delighted cry he forced from Éomer's lips.

When he finally went over the edge, he threw back his head and groaned throatily in ecstasy. His cock twitched, emptying into the Rider's body, sending wave after wave of pleasure ricocheting off his raw nerves.

Gasping he leaned his cheek against Éomer's shoulder blade. "Thank you."

The Rider gulped in air, forehead resting on his arms. When he leaned back, the Prince went with him, pulling out and rocking back on his heels. Éomer turned and kissed him deeply, pushing his tongue between the Prince's lips.

"Thank _you_ ," he murmured.

Amrothos felt stiff and sore, but he wanted his Rider once more before they succumbed to sleep. He took the taller man's hand and lead him to the main sitting room and settled on all fours on the bear-skin rug.

"Once more, if you think you can."

"I think I can manage."

Éomer was so hard after the frantic pounding he had received that he hardly needed encouragement. In short order, he oiled them both and pushed his way in. This time he did not hesitate or pause. He just pushed in relentlessly until his balls came to rest against the Prince's ass.

"Did you gain ahh...oh my...inch or two?"

The King chuckled in his ear. "Was that a plea for mercy?"

"It was a plea, for certain, but not for mercy."

Taking that as his cue, Éomer gripped his hips and started thrusting back and forth, knowing how hard he could take it and how hard he liked it and leaping immediately to that merciless pace. Amrothos tossed his head back and forth and howled like a banshee -- though not a single cry of protest could be heard.

Éomer's climax came fast and hard this time, slamming into him so quickly it took him unawares. He made a strangled sound and exploded within the Prince's body. The world went white for a moment, leaving him with only the rippling effect of his searing orgasm.

Afterwards, they cleaned up and crawled into a clean bed. They slept the sleep of the dead, tangled together like puppies. What dreams they had they did not remember after, but when they woke, they discovered the greatest dream was no dream at all.

They dressed and headed to the stables, talking quietly of neutral things. They did not need to speak of what they both knew; Amrothos would stay in Rohan and they would share what time they could. Éomer still loved his wife, and Amrothos would not have it any other way. Things would work out between them.

Éomer grabbed Firefoot's saddle and turned, frowning at the peculiar look on the Prince's face. "What is it?"

"Just considering what a lucky fool I am."

The King raised an eyebrow. "I wonder which of us is luckier."

"Hmmm..." Amrothos stepped up to him and kissed him.

Éomer pushed him back gently. "I have a kingdom to run."

The Prince took the saddle from his hands. "You can spare a few minutes more," he told him, sinking to his knees and fumbling with the Rider's belt.

Éomer looked up at the stable's ceiling with a helpless smile. Things were certainly going to be more complicated from here on out. If for no other reason than he seemed to have no ability to say no to the irrepressible Prince...even when he knew he should.

**_The End_ **

******

Author's note: Yes, I know Lothiriel was incorrect in her fears that Éomer's roughness would endanger her baby. A lady of her time would not necessarily know that. So no snippy "you're a stupid male" comments. :)


End file.
